Leave it to the Professionals
by Your Iron Lung
Summary: Bro allows Dave to choose whatever ingredients he wants to bake a batch of muffins. The end result is disastrous, and the Striders never baked again. Based off the Manly Men Doing Manly Things comic.


"Alright little bro, what're we putting in these muffins?"

Dave looks up from the bowl of liquid muffin he's clutching tightly to his chest to give you his attention, stirring the contents absent-mindedly. He thinks about it for a moment, leaving you to lean against the counter-top as you wait for an answer.

"I was thinking about blueberries-" he says, looking back into the big bowl. You nod appreciatively and get up from your post to scrounge the fruits from out of the fridge.

"Alright; a _fine_ choice little man-"

"-and some bananas, and some strawberries and maybe some Lucky Charms and-" he continues, unfazed by the amount of ingredients he's listing off.

"Whoa whoa, kid." You say with a laugh, halting his tirade before turning to give a look at him.

Dave stops mid-sentence and pauses his stirring.

"What?"

"You can't put all that shit into one batch of muffins, man." You say with a smirk and a laugh, taking the bowl away from him to give the ingredients a swirl. "One and done, little dude."

You begin to smooth out some of the clumps Dave neglected to work out as he watches you silently. An ironic tune starts to hum it's way out of your mouth as you set the oven to pre-heat, leaving the bowl to chill beside Cal who observes the goings on silently. You give the puppet a fist bump before hoisting yourself up to take a seat beside him on the countertop.

Dave stands by idly, giving you an unreadable look as you offer him a smile. His childish face betrays no emotion as he goes to pull out a chair to sit at your dinky little kitchen table.

"Why not?" He finally asks, perching his 6 year old face between his grubby little hands, looking like a star-struck teenage girl.

"What?"

Temporarily lost, you watch as Dave begins to swing his legs back and forth. You give Cal a 'what's he talking about?' look, but your main man seems just as confused as you are (if his vacant look is anything to go by).

"Why can't we put all that stuff into a muffin?" Dave clarifies, and you open your mouth in a silent 'oh' of comprehension.

"Well," You begin, readying to launch into a well-worded explanation about not letting ingredients mix when you suddenly find yourself at a loss for words. The more you think about it, the more you come to realize that there really is no good reason why one couldn't have multi-flavoured muffins if he so wished for them. Who's to say a chocolate-chip/banana/blueberry hybrid wouldn't taste good? For all you know, it could be the most delicious shit ever. The MAN'S just been limiting your baking potential by stifling your creativity, and that is straight up un-cool.

"I have absolutely no idea." You answer finally. Dave looks confused and quirks his brow as you leap down from the counter, setting Cal in charge of the ingredient bowl. "Get over here squirt."

He pushes away from the table and approaches you, looking up at you expectantly before you wrap your hands around his waist to hoist him up next to Cal. Dave gives him a fist bump before giving you his complete attention.

"What all did you say you wanted in these things?"

He kicks his legs against the cabinets supporting the countertop briefly before answering you with a thought out drawl and a slight upturn of his lips.

"_Welllllllll_, if we're gonna _all_ out..."

The two of you end up baking chocolate-chip, raisin filled blueberry/raspberry/banana baked Lucky Charmed gummy bear muffins that you share on the futon, drinking them down with milk as you spend the night watching various movies. They taste god-damned awful, but between the both of you you finish them all.

Dave makes the off-handed suggestion that from here on out you guys should probably leave the baking to the Egbert to whom he has made friends with, and you agree, even if you don't really understand what he means by that.

They are the best, worst-tasting muffins you've ever had, and you're glad Cal can't take part in the awful treats the two of you've made because the stomach aches they induced were so not worth it.


End file.
